


Sweet Sacrifice

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Choking, Language Kink, M/M, Oral, Religious Imagery, Rimming, Scar Play, Scene Rewrite, Semen Kink, Sock garters!, very slight blood play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during episode 209, "Shiizakana".</p><p>"You must allow yourself to be intimate with your instincts Will.”</p><p>Will stared forward, exhaling slowly. He turned, watched Hannibal watching nothing. “You wouldn’t suggest that if you knew my <i>instincts</i>, Dr. Lecter.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Don't read if you haven't watched "Shiizakana"!!!
> 
> Okay wow, am I setting up a routine now? Is this going to be a weekly thing- I rewrite a scene over the weekend? Oh boy. I'll have to start really changing things up so you guys don't get bored, if it is.

“No beast is more savage than man when possessed with power answerable to his own rage.”

“It’s not rage. Rage is an emotional response to being provoked, this is something else.” Will kept his eyes steady ahead of him, not looking back at Hannibal as he shuffled papers about his desk- the desk that was solid beneath Will, loosely clutched beneath his hands.

“What is it?” Hannibal was still moving, and Will couldn’t feel his eyes on him. He always knew when Hannibal was looking- he had before his incarceration, he had when he was still- but now, more than ever, now that his eyes were open and he could _see_ , he knew when Hannibal was watching him.

Will turned, looking over his shoulder and trying to catch those burgundy eyes, wanted to see them. He loved them, loved the color that could seem as bright as the blood in his veins or as dark as ink. There were many things he loved about Hannibal, now that he had had the time to consider what _love_ could possibly mean. “Instinct.” Hannibal’s eyes drifted from Will for a moment, seemed to stare off into space, as the word rolled over in his mind. When they drifted back, Will finished, “The way he thinks.”

“The way any animal thinks depends on limitations of mind and body. If we learn our limitations too soon we never learn our power.”

Will stared at Hannibal for a moment as he looked back at the desk, the pointless papers he was shuffling around, then looked away. He wondered if Hannibal felt his eyes as he did. “I’d say he learned his power.”

“He claimed his power.” Hannibal walked around the desk, reaching up to undo the buttons on his jacket. “Imagine tearing someone apart.” He settled on the desk, next to will, hands folded in his lap, and Will tapped his fingers along the lip of the desk. _I think about tearing you apart_ he wanted to say, but held it in. He thought about opening Hannibal up and taking a peek at what was inside, rearranging organs and creating a puzzle only he would ever know. Knowing Hannibal’s insides would be the most intimate thing he could ever achieve, Will knew. Being hands deep inside his belly and reaching up to stroke under his ribs, sliding hands over his lungs and clasp his heart. He’d like to feel it beating in his hands. He’d like to leave Hannibal alive while he was embedded inside him. “Or would you prefer to use a gun?”

“Guns lack intimacy.” A sour taste rose in Will’s mouth, thinking back to holding a gun pointed at Hannibal’s head. Always in a kitchen, always in a space the man held as something sacred. He could only be glad, looking back, that he had never pulled the trigger. _It would have been a waste_.

Hannibal nodded. “You set an event in motion with a gun, you don’t complete it.” His hands clenched in his lap, fidgeted, and Will could see it, from the corner of his eyes. Hiding something, distracting. He wondered if his arms ached, his scars throbbing. He wondered if the blood was rushing to his groin and he was _excited_ by the conversation. Will hoped it was both. “You fantasized about killing me with your hands. Wouldn’t that be more satisfying than pulling a trigger?”

Will tilted his head, turning slightly, and spoke in a soft, honest voice. “Yes.” Hannibal looked at him, just for a brief moment, fidgeted atop the desk again.

“When you sent a man to kill me, were you imagining killing me yourself? Living vicariously through him as if,” he stopped, a soft exhale, and Will knew the doctor had lost his breath over the thoughts inside his skull. “Your hands tightened the noose around my neck.” Another pause, and Will wondered what the words tasted like in Hannibal’s mouth. He’d often wondered what the man’s mouth tasted like- once in a more desperate rush, when he saw the man as his _friend_ , as his anchor in a world that was dissolving. Now, there was a calmness to his need, his curiosity. “Or were you simply hiding?”

Hannibal turned, stared right at Will, and Will knew he was trying to seem large, seem the beast of a man he had once appeared to be. Will’s breath huffed out through his nose. “I wasn’t hiding from anything the first time I tried to kill you.”

“You were hiding. Behind the gun.” Will could feel the ghosts of panic, of the franticness that had over taken him in Minnesota, as he stared Hannibal down and thought how it would feel to kill him. Hannibal cocked his head, slightly, watched, was listening to Will’s brain clanking as the gears turned, recognized the sounds of those thoughts. Will knew he knew, and he only looked away, until Hannibal faced away from him again. “You must allow yourself to be intimate with your instincts Will.”

Will stared forward, exhaling slowly. He turned, watched Hannibal watching nothing. “You wouldn’t suggest that if you knew my _instincts_ , Dr. Lecter.” Hannibal turned, stared at him, right into his grey-blue eyes, and Will cocked his head slightly. Hannibal’s eyes seemed to open to him, and he could see the desire to _know_ Will’s instincts, to thread his fingers through them like his hair. Will welcomed both.

“Tell me Will, what are your instincts?” Will pushed himself from the desk, took the step and a half it required to stand in front of Hannibal.

“My instincts have grown, _evolved_.” He reached out, placed his hands over Hannibal’s, still folded in his lap. It was dangerously close to places he had once wanted to touch so desperately. He could feel the heat from Hannibal’s body against his hands, and it was welcome and exactly how he remembered. “I used to want to bear myself for you. I wanted you to find an interest in me, to find something _desirable_.”

“You wanted me to desire you sexually.”

“Mmhmm.” Will nodded. He leaned in closer, tilting his head so he moved along Hannibal’s jawline, inhaling ut not touching. His cologne always calmed Will, yet always made his blood run a straight course to his cock. His eyelids felt heavy. “I wanted you to _save me_ , once.”

“And what do you desire now, Will? What are your instincts concerning me?” Hannibal’s chest was moving noticeably- he was excited, Will could smell it. His hands traced up to Hannibal’s wrists, turned his his arms so the tender underside was beared beneath fabric, and ran his palms up them. Beneath, his scars throbbed, and Hannibal’s eyelids fluttered once.

“I want to know you,” Will breathed, “Every inch. I want to feel your heart beat in my hands.” He pressed his mouth to Hannibal’s neck, open and mouthed the flesh, not kissing but feeling. Hannibal exhaled, shakily. “I want to sink my hands into you and learn every cavity and secret of your body- but I don’t want to kill you. I find you far too interesting for that.” He pressed his tongue to Hannibal’s pulse, felt his heart beating, smiling against flesh. One of his hands left Hannibal’s arm, dropped to his thigh, ran up to the juncture of his thighs, and then pressed to him, palming his cock through his pants. Hannibal exhaled quickly, shifted so he was pushing into Will’s hand. “Did you desire me, Dr. Lecter?”

“Yes.” Hannibal didn’t hesitate, and Will appreciated that. He nipped at his neck, before both hands reached for his jacket, guiding it off his shoulders. He flung it behind the desk, onto his chair, and worked the buttons on Hannibal’s vest, while the man watched with those _lovely_ eyes.

“Do you still?” Will ran his tongue along his teeth as the vest was removed, joined the jacket on the chair. He ran his hands along Hannibal’s chest, and knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from Hannibal himself.

“Yes.”

Will smirked. He leaned closer, hovered over Hannibal’s mouth, before finally leaning in, pressing his mouth to his. His hands worked at his tie, tumbling with the knot, while Hannibal’s hands found his sides, gripped at his shirt. Once, Will was sure Hannibal would have been tearing it off his body, would have been standing and throwing him down onto the desk. There would have been tenderness, yes, but it would have been rushed and heated and _needy_ , and he would have squirmed and begged for _anything_.

Now though, now Hannibal sat and let him lead. Will was sure he was curious- the man _always was_ , wanted to see what instinct told Will to do. “I dream of you,” Will breathed, removing the tie and settling it on the desk, working the buttons along Hannibal’s shirt.

“What of me?” Hannibal leaned closer, stole a kiss before Will could continue, his tongue tracing Will’s lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Will moaned- hadn’t meant to- and for a moment felt as if he was falling back through time. Hannibal’s hands tightened possessively on his sides, like iron, and suddenly his tongue was in his mouth, and Will wouldn’t think to force it out. He let Hannibal taste him, before he managed to force his tongue out with his own, push into Hannibal’s mouth for only a moment, before he pulled back, his hand fitting around Hannibal’s neck and squeezing. Hannibal lifted his chin, stared with slightly widened eyes.

“I dream I have you tied to a tree,” Will whispered, “And there is a stag, black as ink. He tightens the ropes on my command- he sees me as _master_. And you tell me, every night, how you love me.” He felt Hannibal swallow beneath his hold, and could only smile. “Am I your beloved, _Hannibal_?” He tightened his hold slightly, felt the man’s pulse, replaced the rope of his dreams with his hand and felt an excitement he hadn’t been braced for.

“Yes.” A single word, and that was all Will wanted. He leaned in, kissed him again, relaxed his grip so Hannibal could breathe easier. He devoured him, tasted him, kissed him with open mouth and waiting tongue. Hannibal conceded then, and Will’s other hand returned between them, to his crotch- found him startlingly hard within his pants. He chuckled into Hannibal’s mouth.

“You do the same to me, you know,” he whispered, stroking, feeling Hannibal’s breath catch. “When I wake up from those dreams and I’m just _aching_. I pretend my hand is yours.” He squeezed, and Hannibal gasped. Will moved his hand from his throat, finally, only to press his mouth there, his hand working the remaining buttons open on Hannibal’s shirt as he continued to tease him through his trousers. “I whimper your name. Would you like to hear that?”

Hannibal nodded, closing his eyes, and Will wondered if behind those lids he was pushing into Will, if he was fantasizing about how he could have taken him once. How broken and needy Will would have been. Will smiled and released him, guided the shirt off his shoulders, letting it drape over the corner of the desk. Then, nestled between Hannibal’s thighs, he grabbed one of his arms and lifted it, looking down at the tender flesh underneath. His scars were still raw- red and pink and risen, and Will felt his breath escape him. Hannibal leaned forward, pressed his face into Will’s hair affectionately, and Will let him, allowed him the brief intimacy.

Then he guided Hannibal’s arm up, pressed his mouth over the tip of the scar in a kiss. He felt Hannibal exhale, and he kissed up it, stopped at the center to seal his mouth and suck. The flesh rose, pulled, nearly opened up, Will could feel it- knew from the broken mewl Hannibal gave him. “I did this,” Will breathed into his arm, his tongue flicking against the scar. “I did this to you. Don’t ever forget.” His kisses lightened. “I could have had you crucified.”

“Then I would not be here now,” Hannibal whispered, watching now, intrigued. He pushed his skin closer to Will’s mouth and Will felt his lungs burn, the air feeling like a sweet poison. “I would live only in your dreams, Will.”

“And what a shame,” he replied, glancing back as his tongue openly traced the remainder of his scar. “That would be.” Hannibal smiled, and then Will released his arm, turned and put his hands on his shoulders, pushing him back so he lay flat. He opened his trousers, hooking fingers in everything, and tugged, following the clothing down his legs. He tugged Hannibal’s shoes off, left everything in a pile on the floor except his socks.He ran a hand up along Hannibal’s calf, along the little garter that kept the fabric in place, and then rose, looming over him and bending to press his mouth to one thigh. He hadn’t so much as glanced at Hannibal’s cock, and he knew that alone was driving Hannibal mad.

He sucked on the pale flesh, left an angry red mark, heard Hannibal gasp, watched his hands sliding along the smooth wood of the desk. Will chuckled against his skin, finally glanced up as he kissed higher. Hannibal’s cock rested against his belly, engorged and red, leaking, and Will grinned.

“Do you always want me this badly?” he whispered, leaning over it, exhaling onto the hot, sensitive skin. “Or only when I show you the Will Graham you always wanted to be free?” He ran his tongue up along it, his own eyes nearly rolling back. He’d had dreams of this, even behind bars, hadn’t been able to deny how badly he wanted his mouth around Hannibal’s cock, how badly he wanted to taste him. Now that it was happening, he wasn’t sure, for the first time since before his incarceration, what was real.

Hannibal groaned, and Will sucked the head into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, before he swallowed more, set a slow and agonizing rhythm. Hannibal arched, pushed deeper into him, and Will forced himself not to gag as his air was cut off for a moment. It was thrilling.

When he pulled off, he bowed his head, sucked one of Hannibal’s balls into his mouth, and Hannibal nearly howled, arching. Will chuckled, the vibrations making Hannibal gasp. When he pulled away again, he leaned over Hannibal, stretched a hand out into his hair, forced his head up for a kiss. “My darling,” Will breathed, “You’re something magnificent, do you know that? A Christ to my Godhood.” He ran his tongue along Hannibal’s lower lip. “Roll over,” he breathed, “let me worship you.”

He straightened, and Hannibal did as he was bid, crawling up onto the desk, turning so he was on his hands and knees. Will reached down, tugging at his own erection through his pants, fondling himself as Hannibal dared to look back over his shoulder. Will shook his head, made a motion with his finger, and Hannibal stared forward again. “You aren’t allowed to look,” he whispered, “Not now, darling.” He ran his hands up along his thighs, kissed the small of his back, the base of his spine that Will wanted to wrap his hands around, feel the contours of his vertebrae, let them dig into his palms. He kissed the swell of his ass, nipped at skin, before parting it, exhaling right over Hannibal’s hole. Hannibal gasped, and Will was smirking.

“Sing your praises for me,” he whispered, before he pressed his mouth to his hole, working along the tight muscle there. Hannibal cried out, Will’s name on his tongue, and Will traced the muscles, dragging his tongue along it in small patterns that had Hannibal’s shoulders dipping down, unable to hold himself up as his body pulsed. His cock was aching between his thighs, dripping precum onto his desk, and Will took one hand and wrapped it around his length, stroking Hannibal as his tongue pushed inside him. The psychiatrist trembled, and Will alternated between fucking him with his tongue and simply massaging his muscle with it.

“Prašom, Will,” Hannibal gasped, and Will groaned, pushing his tongue deeper, twisting his hand around the head of Hannibal’s cock, “Prašom, prašom, prašom.” Will pulled back, gasping, and roughly turned Hannibal, leaning over him to force two of his fingers into his mouth. Hannibal sucked on them, swirled his tongue along them, and Will’s eyes rolled. When he withdrew them, he wasted no time straightening up and shoving them up inside Hannibal, gasping at the heat, the way his muscles clenched him. Hannibal arched, mouth open, and Will wanted so badly to have his hands in his belly in that moment- to have him cut and bared and feel the slick heat inside him. But he wanted Hannibal alive during it, wanted Hannibal to watch, to guide him, to tell him that each caress to his organs felt _good_.

Worship this man, who had been disguised as a god. Will saw him for what he was now- half god, half man. His own personal Christ, to be sacrificed for his sins. To be crucified when he so chose.

“Do I feel good, Hannibal?” he asked, and Hannibal was nodding.

“Taip,” he gasped, and Will shivered. He wondered if Hannibal realized his English had fallen away, and then decided he didn’t care. His voice sounded better around the unknown words, the way they slipped easily off his tongue and swam inside Will’s skull. “Jūs jaučiatės puikiai, Will.”

Will’s eyes fluttered and he was sure he was about to burst himself. He shoved a third finger inside, his free hand reaching up for Hannibal’s arm, stroking his thumb along his scars.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was gravely, low, inhuman.

“Jūs.” Hannibal’s cheeks were flushed, his skin all seemed to be tinging as his chest rose and fell faster than Will had ever seen. He’d never seen the man truly excited.

“Thank me,” Will whispered, curling his fingers up and finding Hannibal’s prostate so he was crying out. “Thank me for doing it to you, _darling_.”

“Ačiū,” Hannibal gasped, brokenly. The corners of his eyes were wet, and when Will curled his fingers again he openly sobbed. “Ačiū, Will. Dėkojame už randai man.” Will grinned, pulled his fingers out, and hurriedly worked on his own shirt, tearing it off and chucking it away. He undid his belt and opened his pants, pulled his cock free and stroked, his head tipping back. He spit into his hand, slicking himself up, and then dragged Hannibal to the edge of the desk, sitting him up and keeping an arm hooked around his waist.

“Do you want me?” he whispered, and Hannibal gave a broken sob, a _yes_ that sounded more like it had been dragged from Will’s own throat in days long past. Will smirked, guiding himself to Hannibal’s entrance and shoving himself inside to the hilt. Hannibal cried out, hooking his arms around Will’s neck, spreading his thighs wider as Will rocked in and out of him, unable to breathe at how tight the man’s body was. Hannibal nuzzled into him, kissed at his neck and jaw, whimpering into his skin as Will forced him open with each thrust, filled him so completely that Hannibal was sure the world would never be right again unless Will was inside him.

Will pulled one of Hannibal’s arms from his neck, turned and pressed his mouth to the scar there, licking and sucking, Hannibal mewling brokenly, his cock leaving slick patches every time it was trapped between their bodies. “You are mine,” Will breathed against the scar, dragging his lips along it. “You will always be mine, _Hannibal_.” He sucked, and Hannibal cried out, digging his other hand into Will’s hair. “I crucified you, I resurrected you.” He punctuated the sentence with a sharp thrust, and Hannibal sobbed. “I will sacrifice you again.” Another thrust. “And again.” Another. “ _And again_.”

Hannibal was nodding, and Will sucked on the scar one more time, at its beginning near his wrist, before he released him, hand slamming down onto the desk as he drove in harder. It landed on Hannibal’s tie, and Will grasped the fabric, tilting his head to look at it at moment, before lifting it. He released his hold on Hannibal’s waist and looped the fabric twice around his neck, holding it tightly in his fist so it was snug. Hannibal gasped, and Will smiled.

“Ask me for breath,” he whispered. He shoved in deeper, hit Hannibal’s prostate, and the man cried out, the sound ending in a choked break as Will tugged on the tie, tightening it.

“Leiskite kvėpuoti,” Hannibal gasped, not reaching for the tie to fight it, but looking at Will with his lovely eyes- pupils blown and leaking into the sweet wine of his irises. “ _Please Will_.”

“Ask, and you shall receive,” he whispered, “Remember who gives you breath, Hannibal.” He kept a hold on the tie, kept it tight, but enough that Hannibal could breathe, his other hand crossing Hannibal’s body, grabbing his hand and guiding it to the man’s cock. He wrapped his fist over Hannibal’s over his length, and they stroked, once, twice, three times together, before Will left him be and reached for Hannibal’s other arm, lifting it to kiss his scars once more. Hannibal bucked, driving up into his hand and then down onto Will’s cock, his cheeks wet and salty. Will sucked on the scar, whispered again, “Mine,” and pulled the tie tighter. His cock struck Hannibal’s prostate and the man howled, quivering as he shot hot streams of cum up onto his own stomach, as Will sucked on the scar and whispered, “ _Always mine_.”

When Hannibal’s orgasm was subsiding, Will fucked him harder, faster, with abandon, letting the heat in his belly pool down in his balls, make everything tight.

“Prašome Will, man.” Hannibal tossed his head. “For me, Will, _please_.” Will grinned, tugged on the tie and sealed his mouth over the scar, letting his eyes roll as he shoved deep inside Hannibal one last time and stilled, his orgasm tearing through his belly and balls, heating Hannibal’s insides and filling him. Will sucked on the scar until he tasted blood, until Hannibal was sobbing and a small portion of flesh had reopened for him.

He released the tie first, let Hannibal slump back, gasping, tearing it away from his throat. Will dropped Hannibal’s arm, his lips stained red, and pulled out. Hannibal whined, and Will leaned down, trailing his tongue along Hannibal’s abdomen, lapping up the mess the man had made. It made his cock twitch again, and Will was sure he could drink this man down forever.

“You’re so beautiful broken,” Will whispered, pressing over him, kissing Hannibal. Hannibal didn’t need to be told- he licked the cum and blood from Will’s lips, wrapped one arm around his neck, the other bleeding lightly, left to lay at his side. “I do love you, Hannibal. I love you like God could love only his son.”

“God sacrificed his son,” Hannibal whispered, his voice hoarse, broken. There was a light red ring around his neck from the tie. It would fade before the night was out.

Will smiled, kissing his jaw, up to his ear, where he breathed, “I know.” He sucked on his earlobe, and one of Hannibal’s legs hooked behind his knees, holding him close. “And I will sacrifice you, Hannibal. I will sacrifice you again, and again, and again- not for the sins of the world,” he stopped, leaned up to look down, right into Hannibal’s eyes, into his mind encased in his skull. “But for my own.”

He kissed Hannibal again, with an agonizing amount of tenderness, reaching down to stroke along the rupture scar. Will’s thumb dragged blood up along the wound, and there was a mutual silence, an agreement that the scars would never be allowed to fully heal.

**Author's Note:**

> So, sadly, I had to use Google translate:  
> Prašom - Please  
> Taip - Yes  
> Jūs jaučiatės puikiai - You feel perfect/great  
> Jūs - You  
> Ačiū - Thank you  
> Dėkojame už randai man - Thank you for scarring me  
> Leiskite kvėpuoti - Let me breathe
> 
> Also, wow, I got so many little kinks in there that I didn't aim for. I tagged a lot to be safe- I don't want anyone to be uncomfortable. And I'm sure I sound like a broken record with the religious imagery- I am trying to vary it a little bit! (But like, don't get me started about how the Murder Family is just like Abraham and Isaac...)
> 
> Also, maybe one of these days some of these will tie in together and not all be one shots?


End file.
